


But Soft, What Light Through Yonder Window

by Irollforinitiative



Series: Theirs Is Not to Reason Why [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Love, First Time, Fluff, Love, M/M, Sex, THEY SAY I LOVE YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME, no virgins here, together that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irollforinitiative/pseuds/Irollforinitiative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Mycroft and Greg's six month anniversary.  Gifts are exchanged.  First times are had.  Unmitigated fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Soft, What Light Through Yonder Window

_Greg stared at his phone.  He knew what response he wanted to type out.  He knew what he wanted to say but he feared saying it.  He feared cocking it up. When Mycroft’s phone went off again his chest became tight.  He too knew what he wanted to see when he looked at the little screen.  But this was not Mycroft’s area of expertise.  He didn’t know what was right or when. He sighed and smiled as he read Greg’s response._

_Goodnight._

 

Greg grinned at himself in the mirror.  He cut quite the nice figure when he cleaned up, which wasn’t often.  But it was their six month anniversary.  At times he could hardly believe it had actually been six months.  What with work and cases and Sherlock and John trying to get themselves killed every time he turned around, he and Mycroft had come to rely on their weekly date night.  Every Friday, work or not, they were together.  If that meant he watched telly on his laptop with headphones on while Mycroft saved the world, or Mycroft stood around and grimaced at dead bodies, then that’s what it meant. Sometimes they would stay up late watching a film or playing a game and stay over at the other’s flat.  Well, it was usually Mycroft’s because he had a 72 inch flatscreen telly and a surround sound stereo system. But they hadn’t shagged.  After their third date they discussed it.  Neither wanted to screw this up and since their schedules were already tight, they had agreed that spending all their time together shagging would probably kill their relationship.  They needed to talk.  To build something together.

 

And they had. In six months they’d learned so much about each other.  For example, Greg loved old movies. Not just in a passing fancy kind of way.  He adored them.  Mycroft learned quickly that Greg wasn’t up for a snog or any talking if something in black and white was on.  Greg also learned why Mycroft had a room that no one went in.  At first he was convinced there were bodies in it or some horrible secret.  So he’d waited until Mycroft had fallen asleep and snuck in. Mycroft woke up to hear Greg screaming.  It wasn’t bodies;  it was bugs.  Dead ones in frames lined the walls.  There were a few terrariums that housed living ones.  Greg had found it disturbing until he watched Mycroft look at them.  He had smiled so fondly at the case that housed his Atlas beetles.  It was the same expression he wore when he looked at Greg. In that moment Greg had realized he truly loved Mycroft and that Mycroft loved him, but he couldn’t say it.  He couldn’t say it first.

 

Mycroft had realized he loved Gregory about three weeks earlier.  They had watched Casablanca because Gregory had such a difficult week at work that he hadn’t even realized John and Sherlock were working on a case until he heard from Sally that, as she said, “The Freak almost got poor John’s new girlfriend killed.” Gregory had been so tired but had forced himself to stay awake for the entire film.  By the end his head was drooping ever few seconds and he would jerk it back up and desperately re-focus.  Mycroft had stared at him as he promptly fell asleep once the credits rolled and realized he was irrevocably and whole-heartedly in love with Gregory.  But he’d never been in love before.  So he didn’t say it.  He couldn’t say it first.

 

Greg picked up the small overnight bag he’d packed and slowly draped it over his shoulder.  He felt entirely presumptuous having it. But Mycroft had said weekend. 

The week before he called Greg, “Mycroft, to what do I owe this pleasure.”

 

“Do I not have permission to call my boyfriend at will?”

 

“Obviously. You just don’t usually.”

 

“This is true.  I fear you’ve seen through my non-extant excuse.” He chuckled and cleared his throat quickly.  He was around his peers and couldn’t let talking to Greg destroy his countenance. “I’m calling because, as you are fully aware, this Friday is our six month anniversary.”

 

“I’m entirely aware.  You said you were going to make plans for us.”

 

“That is why I’m calling.  I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner at my flat?”

 

“Of course.  But…you know…that’s not terribly different than normal.”

 

“I’m fully aware. However, neither of us really tends to like to go out and I thought we could…make a weekend of it.”

 

“A…weekend?”

 

“Gregory, you know I dislike repeating myself.”

 

“Yeah.  Sorry. Yes.  Sounds good.  Weekend.”

 

“Well, until Friday, my dear.”

 

Mycroft had worried about that conversation for weeks.  He wasn’t entirely sure if this was the illusive “right moment” for him and Gregory to sleep together, but he wasn’t sure he could wait any longer. Every time they touched it was murder.  Gregory’s lips upon his own drove him entirely insane.  He had started feeling like a prisoner of his own body when even slow meetings became filled with thinking of Gregory’s jaw.  His neck.  What his chest would look like.  Would all the hair on his body be silvery? Or would it still be as dark as his hair was in his youth? Moreover, Mycroft was entirely giddy with nerves to give Gregory the anniversary present he had for him.  Early on in the relationship, Mycroft had attempted to shower Gregory with gifts and lavish dinners.  He had the money to do so, and had always wanted an excuse to be able to use his wealth to spoil a significant other.  While Gregory had loved it all and still let Mycroft pay every time they went out, he’d told him that he’d grown up poor.  So that meant that an act from the heart meant more than one from the wallet.  So Mycroft hadn’t bought Greg a gift for their anniversary.  He made him one. 

 

As Greg got into the taxi, he worried again about bringing the overnight bag.  He didn’t want to be presumptuous.  Then again, he didn’t want to spend another night politely sleeping on the couch (he always turned down Mycroft’s offers for a bed or even for them to share as it was far too much temptation) when he could be in Mycroft’s arms. His pale arms.  Peppered with freckles and a light dusting of auburn hair.  Aside from his head, hair was hard to come by on Mycroft’s body.  Greg wondered if his whole body was like that.  His legs.  His chest.  His…well.  Greg had to blink the mental images away and pulled his phone to distract himself.  He sent off a text to Mycroft.

 

_In the taxi.  Should be there before too long._

 

Mycroft felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as his phone went off.  He knew it had to be from Gregory.  Mycroft squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the phone out of his pocket.  A voice in his head nagged him.  It was over.  Gregory is texting to say he can’t make it.  Gregory is disgusted to spend the weekend with you.  It’s the voice of his father.  In those moments it was always his father’s voice that rang in Mycroft’s head and told him such horrible things. Mycroft shook his head and sighed, taking out the phone and feeling all tension leave him as he read the text.  He sat at the table and typed out his response to Gregory.

 

_I await your arrival with bated breath, my darling. –M_

In the backseat of the cab Greg stared at the text for a long time.  Mycroft, the chancellor of ice, had a penchant for pet names, Greg had learned.  In his life and career he always had to be so stiff, so housed in propriety and ceremony.  Greg had become his only outlet. It was rare when a conversation passed that Mycroft didn’t call Greg something sweet.  Greg’s favorite had only been uttered once.  While watching a film, Greg had begun to fall asleep on Mycroft’s shoulder.  When he realized what he was doing he sat up and apologized.  Mycroft had only pulled Greg’s head back onto his should and shushed him saying, “Go to sleep, my heart.” Greg had faked sleep after that, entirely unable to calm the giddiness in his chest at being called something with such deep affection. Remembering the event plastered a smile upon Greg’s face that didn’t fade as he climbed out of the cab and slung the overnight bag over his shoulder again.  He strode up to the entrance to Mycroft’s building and buzzed Mycroft’s flat.

 

“You’d best wait with bated breath.  Be entirely uncouth if you breathed easily while I’m away.”

 

Mycroft looked up from the email he was reading when the buzzer sounded.  He grinned widely and moved to press the button and respond. “Such sass.  Now I’m entirely unsure I wish to buzz you up.”

 

“You bloody well best buzz me up or I’m taking your anniversary present back.”

 

Mycroft grinned and pressed the button to let Greg in, waiting by the door until he heard footsteps.  He opened the door as soon as Greg stepped up to it to knock. “My darling Gregory.  How I’ve missed you.”

 

Greg was ready for Mycroft’s swift greeting and held up the small box that contained his gift for Mycroft. “I believe part of the bargain for letting me in was this?”

 

Mycroft chuckled softly and stepped forward to kiss Greg softly before plucking the package out of Greg’s hand.  He examined it as Greg stepped into the flat and closed the door, setting his overnight bag aside quickly. Not quickly enough.  Mycroft saw it and felt warm with the implications.  Yes, he had invited Greg over for the weekend, but to see proof of his intentions to stay the entire time brought a flush to Mycroft’s cheeks. He covered it by focusing on the gift. “What is it?”

 

“I can’t tell you that. Open it.” Greg rolled his eyes and wrapped one arm around Mycroft’s waist.

 

Mycroft smiled and opened the small box.  Inside were cufflinks.  At first they appeared to be simple white cufflinks with a black and orange splotch in the center.  However, as he looked at them he realized the black dot in the center wasn’t a dot at all.  It was a small beetle. He gasped and plucked one of them out of the box so that he might examine it closer. “It’s…it’s…”

 

“A crucifix ground beetle.  Yeah.”

 

“But they’re endangered.” He turned to Greg with wide eyes.  Entirely consumed with wonder.

 

“I know.  I had to hire a chap to rove around the forest floor and find a couple that were already dead.  I knew you’d not have me killing any.”

 

“Gregory…”

 

Greg blushed and looked at the cufflinks. “They are your favorites, right?”

 

“You know very well that they are.” He removed the cufflinks he was wearing with shaking fingers and replaced them with the ones from Greg. He’d foregone a suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie, but was still in a dress shirt and bracers. Greg smiled and removed his suit jacket as well. He’d worried incessantly about the gift.  It had cost him the vast majority of his savings, but the look on Mycroft’s face was entirely worth it. As Greg was looking at the cufflinks again, Mycroft turned on him and seized Greg’s face in his hands, kissing him fiercely until he’d pressed Greg up against the door.  When they broke apart for air he rested his forehead against Greg’s. “Thank you so much, Greg.”

 

“You…you called me Greg.”

 

“Indeed.  It is your name, is it not?”

 

Greg chuckled and slid his hands from Mycroft’s hair to his waist. “Yeah, but you’ve never called me that before.”

 

“I felt inspired to do so. I hope you will beg my leave to have done so.”

 

“Shut up you proper bastard and kiss me again.”

 

Mycroft stepped back.  “I think not.  It’s time for me to give you your gift.” He disappeared into his study and lifted the small parcel that was Greg’s gift.  Greg.  He had planned that. After so much formality, he’d grown to desire an air of informality between them even if only behind closed doors. Saying Greg had been easier and far more pleasant that he’d ever expect it to be.  When he returned, Greg had tucked the overnight bag away God knew where and cleaned up the wrapping from the cufflinks.

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

Mycroft chuckled and held out the gift.  It was a single sheet of fine parchment paper, folded neatly and sealed with his family crest in sealing wax. “Forgive the delay, my sweet. I had to fetch your gift.”

 

Greg took it and smiled queerly. “A letter?”

 

“You once said you prefer a gift from the heart above one from the wallet. Should you prefer me to purchase you something I shall.  But I think you will prefer this.”  He blushed and looked down as Greg carefully broke the seal and opened the paper. 

 

As he read it his eyes grew wide and his mouth open.  The paper had only a few lines written on it in Mycroft’s neat hand.  It read, “My darling Gregory Lestrade, I love you.  I always will.  With every iota of my heart, Mycroft Holmes.” Greg covered his mouth with his hand and took a shaky breath. “Mycroft?”

 

Mycroft looked worried and stepped closer. “Yes?”

 

Greg set the letter on the kitchen table and stepped close to Mycroft again, his face still pale and eyes still wide. “Say it.”

 

Mycroft smiled softly. “I love you, Greg. With all my heart.”

 

 “Oh God, Mycroft, I love you too.” He smiled broadly and leaned up to capture Mycroft’s lips with his own.

 

“You are pleased with your anniversary present? I don’t need to run out and purchase you something?”

 

Greg’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “No! Don’t you dare.  This is the best gift I’ve ever received.  I love it.  And you.”

 

“You really mean that? You’re not just saying it because you felt you needed to after—”

 

Greg silenced him with a slow and heated kiss. “Shut up.  I love you.  I have for some time now.”

 

Mycroft stared into Greg’s eyes for a moment, verifying the information before nodding and stepping back a little.  “Dinner?”

 

“Oh, yes.  Did you actually cook?” Greg blinked to clear the passion from his eyes and followed Mycroft into the kitchen proper. It was a lavish yet entirely open floor plan, so Greg was able to lean against the kitchen counter and stare fondly at the letter from Mycroft sitting on the table a few feet away in the dining area.

 

“Oh goodness no.  I wouldn’t ask you to deign to such a thing.  I fear I am an abysmal chef and would surely give you some sort of illness.  No, no, I had our dinner catered in.  It has been sitting in the oven to stay warm.”

 

Mycroft, obviously awkward in the kitchen, pulled out the pans and dished up two plates of the veal parmesan.  He lifted the plates and nodded towards the decanter filled with wine sitting near the stove.  Greg grabbed it and followed him to the table.  He set the wine down and picked up the letter, placing it on the chest height bar that separated the kitchen and dining areas. “There.  Now I might be able to see this during dinner.”

 

Mycroft smiled and set down the plates.  “I fear I may wear only these cufflinks for months.  Whether or not they go with the outfit.”

 

Greg’s eyebrows furrowed. “You wouldn’t…”

 

“No…you’re right. I’ll just have to wear things that go.” Mycroft smiled at Greg.  The other man knew him well enough to know he’d never debase himself by wearing an outfit that clashed.

 

They sat and enjoyed their meal in relative silence, both quiet for the same reason. What was to happen after dinner.  Mycroft had purchased an old film for them to watch.  It was called Christmas in Connecticut, but reading the back, Mycroft had been reminded of Greg’s cheery nature.  So they would watch that.  And Greg would only pay attention to the film.  But then….

 

Greg found himself suddenly no longer full when he thought about the overnight bag he’d stashed in the coat closet.  After dinner would be the moment of truth.  They didn’t have anything else planned.  Just the dinner.  And the…weekend.  But Greg didn’t know if that was happening. Or if it were, what was to happen.  So after dinner would be the deciding factor.  After dinner. Which was that moment. He looked at his plate and Mycroft’s and realized they’d both finished eating. He blushed and stood up.  “Let me do the washing up.”

 

“Greg you know I have staff that will attend to that.”

 

“Well…let me get the plates at least.”

 

“Fine.  Where did you put your overnight bag?”

 

Greg looked up and his face burned with embarrassment. “What?”

 

“Your bag.  I bought a film for us to watch specially for tonight and I thought it might be more comfortable to change into pajamas.  I was going to get yours out for you while I change.”

 

“Oh…it’s in the coat closet.” He looked down at the plates and busied himself with slowly collecting their forks and napkins as Mycroft fetched the bag and disappeared into his bedroom.  

 

Mycroft set the bag down with a slow sigh.  He opened it and smiled at Greg’s clothes haphazardly wadded up inside.  No large pile of condoms on top, but he was positive there were some in there somewhere.  Greg wouldn’t have brought an overnight bag if he hadn’t planned on…well. Mycroft pushed the thought aside and laid out Greg’s pajamas.  When he came out of the bedroom Greg was standing politely at the end of the hall.  Mycroft smiled as he passed him.  “I’ll get the film loaded.”

 

Greg stepped into Mycroft’s bedroom and resisted the urge to poke around.  He changed quickly and tucked the bag into a corner.  It felt like a violation of Mycroft’s space to have it on the bed.  Also, should things go well, it would be an imposition. He stepped back out into the front room and stood behind the sofa, leaning over it to lift Mycroft’s chin and kiss him softly. “I love you.”

 

Mycroft beamed. “I love you too.  Now, come sit before I drag you over the back of the sofa.”

 

Greg giggled and hopped over the back of the sofa.  “That I would like to see.” He laid his head in Mycroft’s lap and reached up to run his fingers through his hair.

 

“Much as I enjoy this, you will probably want to sit up when you see what film I’ve picked.” He nodded at the screen without taking his eyes off Greg.

 

Greg looked to the screen and grinned, settling in on his side, his head still in Mycroft’s lap. “Ooh! I love this one.  Play it.”

 

Mycroft clicked play and settled his hand in Greg’s silvery hair, idly running his fingers through it as they watched.  About a half hour into the film Greg turned onto his back and looked up at Mycroft. Mycroft pulled his hand away and frowned. “I’m sorry, my dear.  Was I distracting you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’ll stop.”

 

“Don’t.” Greg grinned at Mycroft’s confused frown and leaned up while reaching behind Mycroft’s neck to bring his head down until they could kiss. 

 

Mycroft sighed and wrapped his arms around Greg’s body and pulled him up a little so they were both sitting. “Oh…”

 

“I’m tired of watching this film.  Besides, I’ve seen it before.”

 

“But you love old films.” He frowned.  Mycroft didn’t want Greg to sacrifice his own happiness in an attempt to please him.  He was entirely happy to wait until the film was over. His expression remained until Greg kissed him again.

 

“I love you more.” Greg grinned and stood up.  Mycroft stood up and pulled him close again, kissing him soundly. Greg wound his hand into Mycroft’s hair and pulled him close, their tongues running against one another’s with the familiarity of two individuals who had been together long enough that the passion came not from the excitement of something new, but from the pleasure of just being around one another. Though he was still entirely clothed, Mycroft felt suddenly very naked when Greg slid his fingers into his long pajama sleeves.  That feeling became a good one when they began to kiss again, stumbling towards the bedroom.  Before they reached it, Mycroft had successfully worked Greg’s soft t-shirt off and tossed it aside.  Greg pressed Mycroft into the bedroom wall and ground their hips together.  Mycroft’s head banged into the wall as he gasped and pressed into Greg’s body.  Greg took the opportunity to divest Mycroft of his shirt. He let his mouth fall onto Mycroft’s neck as he softly kissed under his jaw.  Mycroft gasped and tried to form a coherent sentence. “Bed…we should … to the bed before I give myself a concussion against this wall.”

 

“Yes.” Greg smiled and stepped back, drawing Mycroft with him by his hips.  He continued to back up until they toppled onto the bed, and Mycroft braced his legs on either side of Greg’s hips to not fall entirely on top of him. Greg slid his hands over Mycroft’s bum and took advantage of the pause. “Have you…”

 

“Have I what, Gregory?”

 

“Oh back to Gregory now?”

 

“Only because you are annoying me with your talking.” Mycroft lowered his head to gently scrape his teeth across Greg’s earlobe.

 

“Ahh…well it’s necessary.  I need to know if you’ve done this before.”

 

Mycroft huffed and rolled off of Greg, scooting to lie properly across the bed.  Greg followed him and lay close, his hand stroking gently along Mycroft’s arm. “Sex or sex with a man? Never mind, the answer is yes to both. Have you?”

 

Greg visibly relaxed at Mycroft’s words. “Oh God yes! Well then the question becomes; what do you want to do?”

 

Mycroft blushed and looked at Greg’s hand on his arm. “I…I don’t know.”

 

“What do you think about us doing when your mind wanders after a date or a snog?” he scooted closer and kissed Mycroft’s pale shoulder.  It was dark in the bedroom, but he could see how pale Mycroft’s skin was.  And with just a light dusting of coppery hair.  Just as he’d imagined it would be.

 

“I think about penetrative sex.  I think about you taking me, face to face, probably a bit quick and rough because all either of us has done for the last few months is think about this moment.  I think about—”

 

He was cut off by Greg’s mouth roughly pressing against his own. “Shut up. No more talking.”

 

Mycroft grinned and groaned as Greg rolled on top of him and ground their hips together again. He reached down and pulled the sheet over them before letting his fingers trail under the edge of Greg’s pajama bottoms, delighted to discover there were no pants underneath. When Greg noticed the sheet over them now he frowned.

 

“Why the sheet?”

 

“I am not accustomed to being bare.  In any sense of the word.  We can work up to not needing it.” He blushed and looked to the side. Greg reached up and brought Mycroft around to face him again before kissing him heatedly. Mycroft groaned into Greg’s mouth and pushed his bottoms down.  Greg chuckled and began to slip Mycroft’s off as well. As he slid them lower he kissed along Mycroft’s neck and down his chest.

 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

 

“Y…yes.” Mycroft’s voice was very nearly a moan as he slid his fingers through Greg’s hair, his kisses going lower and lower.

 

“Whenever I thought of us together I thought of having you as well.  But with one difference.”

 

“Oh? And what might that be.”

 

“I’ve very much so been wanting to do this.” He kissed below Mycroft’s bellybutton and, in one smooth motion, moved to take most of Mycroft’s straining erection into his mouth.  Mycroft cried out and his knees fell apart as Greg tossed the last pieces of their clothing away.  Greg bobbed for a few minutes before pulling off with a wet pop that made both of them groan. He gently kissed the head and let his thumb trail up and down the base of Mycroft’s shaft. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

 

Mycroft swallowed thickly and pulled on Greg’s shoulder.  “It has been far too long for you to say and do things like that.” He leaned over to his bedside table and pulled out condoms and lube. 

 

Greg raised an eyebrow. “I’m clean you know.  Are you?”

 

“Yes, but I abhor mess.  And while sometimes it can be rather erotic to have the semen of another drip down your thigh, it isn’t always.  And seeing as how this is our first time together I’d like it to be as erotic as possible.” He tore off two condoms and handed one to Greg.

 

“Two?”

 

“Yes I’m wearing one as well.  Mess.”

 

Greg chuckled and rolled the condom on, making himself not pause to stroke his aching hard-on.  He hadn’t been fully hard until he’d taken Mycroft’s cock into his mouth.  It had been enough to drive him wild. Greg dragged the lube over and coated the fingers of one hand.  “You know the drill.  Relax as much as you can.”

 

Mycroft glared but it was cut off and turned into perhaps the most beautiful expression Greg had ever seen as Greg slipped a finger into Mycroft’s tight entrance.  Mycroft let out a breathy moan and pressed into Greg’s finger as Greg located Mycroft’s prostate and began to gently massage it. Once the tension on his finger eased, he let another finger join it.  He repeated this process until he had three fingers comfortably inside Mycroft and the other man was sweating and writhing.  “Greg please.  I don’t wish to come with just your fingers inside me.  I’m ready.”

 

“Tisk tisk.  So bossy.”

 

“I’m the damned bloody British government.  If I order you to fuck me you’d best do so promptly.” The severity of the words was dulled by the fact that Mycroft’s eyes were screwed shut and every exhalation was a soft moan.  Greg chuckled and removed his hand to spread some lubricant on himself before positioning himself and gently pressing forward.

 

Greg groaned and Mycroft gasped, his eyes opening to focus on Greg’s face. Once he was fully inside Mycroft, Greg paused and panted. “You…you okay?”

 

Mycroft nodded. “Leg.  Leg up.”

 

Greg reached down to lift one of Mycroft’s legs until it rested nearly on his shoulder.  As he did so he shifted in deeper and Mycroft’s hips canted up against Greg.  “Brilliant idea, as always.”

Greg gave Mycroft a cheeky grin before beginning to gently rock against him, the position allowing him to stroke against Mycroft’s prostate with every movement. Mycroft buried his hands under the pillow at his head as his eyes rolled back. “I’m….I…bloody touch me so I can climax.”

 

Greg groaned at how much of a turn on it was to see an entirely debauched Mycroft give orders and moved the hand that wasn’t bracing his body as well as Mycroft’s leg and began to gently stroke Mycroft.  After only a few moments, Mycroft’s back arched off mattress and his erection twitched and pulsed in Greg’s hand as he came inside the condom.  Greg paused so that Mycroft might have a chance to collect himself. 

 

“Forgive me.  I fully intended to last longer but you touching me was far too much.” Mycroft lowered his arms and ran his fingers through Greg’s hair. “Are you even close?” Greg blushed and shook his head. “Then have me.  Take me as you will until you come.”

 

Greg groaned and grit his teeth before moving his hand off Mycroft’s softening cock to grip his hip tightly.  He began to thrust in honesty into Mycroft.  Mycroft held him close and murmured encouragement. “Yes.  I’m yours Greg.  All yours.  You may have me.  May take me as you will.  Whenever and wherever you want.” Greg sped up until he was pounding into Mycroft, each trust punctuated with a small moan. Suddenly his movements became erratic and his voice much louder.

 

“Oh God Mycroft! Fuck I love you.” He lowered his head to bite Mycroft’s neck, just below the collar line, as he came.  He writhed a little and whimpered in pleasure before gently pulling out of Mycroft, both of them wincing in their overly sensitive states.  He removed his soiled condom as well as Mycroft’s before dropping them in the bin that was by the bedside.  It had never been there before. “I see you planned ahead.”

 

Mycroft pulled Greg to his chest and tangled their arms and legs. “I invited you over for the weekend.  You brought an overnight bag.  Of course I put a bin by the bed. I also put wet wipes in the bedside table drawer for if and when we decide we need a quick moment to freshen up.”

 

Greg chuckled and rubbed his nose against Mycroft’s soft chest hair.  “You, my good man, are the consummate power bottom.”

 

“Hush up.  I simply know what I like and how I like it.”

 

Greg scooted up and kissed the forming mark on Mycroft’s neck. “I liked it.  And I’m sorry about this.  At least I had the presence of mind to make sure it was below your collar.”

 

Mycroft reached up and smoothed his finger over the sore spot. “I didn’t even notice.  Nor do I mind. I think I will entirely enjoy walking around in suits knowing that this lies just below them.”

 

“Good lord for that I may give you more.”

 

“Please do.  The weekend is still young, my love.”

 

Greg shivered and groaned. “I shouldn’t have brought clothes, should I? We’re just going to spend the whole weekend in bed shagging each other senseless, aren’t we?”

 

Mycroft rolled on top of Greg and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. “Hopefully.”

 

 And they did.   

 

Sex scene inspired by [Mystradedoodle's doodle](http://mystradedoodles.tumblr.com/image/29241463910).

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliette" 
> 
> Romeo:  
> But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?  
> It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.  
> Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
> Who is already sick and pale with grief  
> That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
> 
> Romeo And Juliet Act 2, scene 2, 2–6


End file.
